Chapter 16 – Peeping Rose

In which Ruby Rose gets an eyeful.

Blake confirmed that she still wished to partake of ridiculing the modern art at the museum, even though the first half of their date had ended in silliness. Weiss had asked if she didn't feel it would be redundant, but Blake had said she had no intention of missing the duct-taped hot dog or the blank canvas with a single dot.

"If you hadn't told me…" Blake shook her head and shrugged. "But you did tell me, and now I'm all hyped for it."

"A-Are you sure?" Weiss had asked, fearful that now that their date had peaked, the only way forward was down.

"Of course," Blake had answered resolutely. "I mean, what else would we do? Just go home and study?"

Weiss nodded at that, trying not to feel too forlorn about Blake's reluctance. It was impossible to be too sorry with herself, having actually been kissed on the lips.

It's almost kind of difficult to wrap my head around. I knew her before we knew how to do basic mathematics, before we could even write in cursive, and now she's…now we're…

Blake had always been as close to her as a sister, but she didn't resemble Weiss' siblings nor did their relationship resemble the frost among Weiss, Winter, and Whitley. They weren't just two Faunus who'd spent time together and formed and obligatory bond to keep the peace – in the neglectful care of her father, Weiss had sought out the company of the Belladonnas and found a hitherto unknown source of comfort and kinship. The feline family shared her sense of duty, her desire to improve the world, her hidden passions that professional exteriors protected from the public eye – they were the family she chose.

As for Blake herself, she was someone who understood Weiss so astoundingly well that Weiss actually wondered how they hadn't known of their attraction to one another until Ruby's prompting. Weiss could implicitly count on Blake to have her back, to cheer her up when she was down, to say the advice she didn't want to hear but needed to. Blake had been the one to break Weiss out of her self-inflicted isolation over the issue of leadership and emotional vulnerability, even when several other huntresses had tried.

"Oh, shit, I didn't mean it like that," Blake said, a few minutes into their departure from The Wave and towards the museum. "I just realized, I phrased it like I had nothing better to do and was only going on the date because I was already here. All I meant was that we have the full afternoon to ourselves, and it would be such a shame if we didn't spend it fooling around together."

"Fooling around, of course, referring to goofing off." Weiss blinked, recalling their kiss minutes ago. "Right?"

Blake nodded, seemed to recall the same moment, and turned beet red. Both girls looked away.

It was a sunny day, but the breeze of the ocean kept the temperature from feeling too hot. However, Weiss was fairly certain she was about to overheat for an entirely different reason than the seaside weather.

"I liked it," Blake suddenly blurted out.

For how red-all-over her black and white appearance became, Blake might've been mistaken for a newspaper. Or a sunburnt penguin. Or a panda on its period. Or whatever punchline you chose for the joke.

"M-Me too," Weiss admitted, stuttering ever so slightly. "Ahem. Me t-too." She cleared her throat again. "M-M-Me t-t-t…yeah."

"We can…"

Weiss clasped her hands together. "Perhaps at a later time. I fear for my cardiopulmonary system if any more excitement happens."

"Let's just hope no random bare-chested boys jump from the ceiling and spook us," Blake joked, like she always did, and Weiss felt some of the normalcy of their relationship return. Taking the next step together was wondrous, but Weiss imagined it might be better for them both if they took this new drug together in small doses.

Clearing her throat and catching her wobbling lips for real this time, Weiss spoke. "The museum should be right up ahead. It's open to the public with a two-for-one discount on weekends."

"Gotta save that fortune somehow," Blake said with a grin.

It obviously wasn't that. Weiss didn't explain it to Blake, but she hadn't wanted to throw money at this. Again, it was a part of the whole 'planning it by herself' thing. While she would gladly deplete the Schnee fortunes to spoil Blake rotten, that would mean Weiss had relied on her father's money to handle this. Additionally, Weiss knew Blake would be turned off by such ostentatious displays that lacked heartfelt meaning.

I feel like I show more by displaying an investment of my own time into this than my own lien. I find planning and logistics enjoyable, but there's also the element of my own personal touch on our date, as opposed to delegating this elsewhere. Blake trusted me with the schedule, not a tour guide, relationship advisors off the internet, or an elder student willing to offer advice.

On top of all that, there was just one more thing. Weiss wanted their date to be…normal. No buying the entire restaurant out for Blake, no reserving a full theme park, no extravagantly fancy gifts. Both girls typically lived an abnormal lifestyle given their semi-celebrity status, and a more down-to-Remnant afternoon actually sounded attractive to Weiss.

It's not the only thing I find attractive.

Weiss had to bite her tongue as the unbidden thought that had just popped into her head when she glanced over at Blake threatened to make her shriek with embarrassment. What if Blake heard? What if, in addition to Shadow Clones, Blake had a secret second mind-reading semblance? The chances of one cat Faunus being the sole possessor of a second spiritual auric power was unlikely, but even the one-in-a-trillion odds were too high to risk.

No more lewd thought! I'm a Schnee, not some…some…cocotte! It would be improper of me to think of Blake's body, perfect thought it may –

Oh ho ho, you're going to have to try harder than that, intrusive thoughts, if you wish for me to mentally visualize Blake wearing nothing but a Menagerian-cut bikini that barely covers –

Nice try, brain. You can't catch me like that. You'd be better off reminding me that we share a shower in which Blake regularly undr–

…in which rivulets of flowing water pour down her nak–

…from which she emerges, clad in a towel, not even ten feet away from me, her perfect skin glistening in–

"Fuck," Weiss said aloud. Controlling intrusive thoughts was harder than she'd imagined. "Fuck!"

"I won't!" Blake said suddenly. "I wasn't!"

Weiss looked over at her.

"I wasn't thinking that, I swear!" Blake said.

I…I said…

She…

Weiss shook her head. This was getting out of hand.

That's enough of that. We need…something, to keep our minds on the straight and narrow.

Fortunately, Weiss had a partial compromise in mind that could hopefully satisfy their straying brains. Holding out her hand, she offered her fingers to Blake. "Shall we?"

After a moment of utter silence and motionlessness (in which Weiss, heart full of dismay, worried she might've crossed a line Blake wasn't yet ready to cross), Blake sucked in a breath and grabbed hold. Her grip was incredibly tight, almost uncomfortably so, but Weiss chalked that down to nervousness, and their shared terror over this entire scenario only made her love for her best friend and now girlfriend grow.

"We shall," Blake said.

The two walked into the museum together, hand-in-hand.

"You stupid fools! I bet the collective IQ of this room is lower than the occupancy! Fools, the lot of you! Illiterate idiots, feebleminded fools, and a circus of mindless moronic mentals!"

Weiss had to hand it to the guy that they hired – he certainly knew how to toe the fine line of creatively insulting the passersby without resulting to anything truly offensive. Never a mention of their race, gender, age, physical shape or size, or anything that might genuinely stir up uncomfortable feelings (and not a single mention of how foolish the art around them all was), but plenty of sarcasm, disparagement, and targeted vituperating in the finest ways.

What also impressed her was that he had yet to loop back around and reuse any insults, and they'd been watching the show for nearly half an hour. He had no earpieces, meaning he was either going off at people on the fly or ad-libbing it all. Blake was actually keeping count of how many unique ways he'd roasted his generously paying patrons, and her current tally was in the hundreds. He'd gone after the room's intelligence, likened them to each and every farm animal (no mention of cats or swans, though), brought up the ugly hairstyles of the people around him, commented on their singing voices, even somehow managed to call out Weiss' shoes for not matching her dress' lower hem – and he was still going!

Our presence is probably making him sweat, though. Once we leave, there'll be no familiar faces, and he can bring up some denigration from hours past.

Blake had insisted on coming here first, as she knew that neither she nor Weiss would be able to enjoy any other exhibits if they were distracted by the knowledge that the pièce de résistance was still out there, just waiting for them to come by and be abused.

"He's so mean," giggled Blake, quiet enough that the guy couldn't hear. Even if he could, though, Weiss would also complement his ability to keep a straight face when sometimes saying downright silly things.

They eventually chose to leave after he broke to reach for his bottle of water. Weiss actually somehow liked that ending – the mind remained undefeated, but the physical needs of the body were what limited his deriding debut.

Sadly, the hot dog wrapped up in duct-tape was gone (according to a meandering docent, a child had eaten it), but it was fortunately replaced by a smashed LED lightbulb by the same Vacuoan artist, a gentleman by the name of Hackett McPhony…okay, his 'real' name was actually Henri Entrigue, but somehow Weiss' made up one for him sounded better.

When they got to the melted snowball, a safeguarded relic from the artist's childhood stored in the back of his refrigerator until she chose to place the ice into a plastic water bottle and melt it down in the name of modern art, Blake informed the security guard nearby that she was thirsty and wanted to buy it.

"It's not for sale," the man said.

"I'm sure I can afford it," Blake said. "I'm here with Weiss Schnee, as you see, so even overpriced theme park water is within our range."

"This isn't a drink," said the guard. "It's an exhibit. And we're in a gallery, not a theme park."

"I know," Blake said. "But are the prices of each item within the gallery not listed?"

Weiss went over to the placard outlining the details of the water bottle. Skipping past the name in a foreign language, the incredibly pretentious 'About The Author' section, and the full explanation of how the snowball and bottle signified the death of innocence and youth in an overly capitalist system, Weiss pointed her finger at the last item.

"Here it is, Blake," Weiss called over. "They value it at 54,000 lien. My credit card maxes out at two-fifty, so we can afford it."

Blake wiped nonexistent sweat off her brow. "Oh, thank the Brothers, because my lips are parched, and the water fountain is so far away."

"Y-You can't…"

Blake blinked at him. "Why not?"

"I-It's art," said the hapless security guard. "It's not meant to be bought for drinking."

"It's a water bottle," Blake pointed out. "And it's for sale. If it drips, I sips."

"V-Very well, then." He cleared his throat, deciding that this was not his fight to fight. "I'm going to call my bosses and inform them that you ladies wish to place a bid on the auction."

Weiss was fully ready to go the full mile and purchase the water bottle just for the hoot of letting Blake drink it (the price was paltry compared to the kind of money she could dish out), but Blake decided that she'd had enough fun and backed down at that point. Her teasing was all well and good, but she knew that if she got this guard in trouble, he could lose his job, and that wasn't something any of them wanted.

"You sure?" Weiss asked as they entered a room full of paintings of clowns dying horrific deaths – drowning, execution by hanging, lethal injection. "I can afford it."

"I don't wanna make you spend a million lien for our first date. It sends the wrong message – and yes, Weiss, before you say, I know you have it and are willing to frivolously spend it, but it's about me, in this case, not you. Just like how you wanted to plan our first date and make it perfect, I don't even want to joke about using you for your money."

Girlfriendhood had apparently fried Blake's brains, because Blake should have known that Weiss would never even think that. However, she did have a point about it being a matter of each Faunus living up to their own standards of themselves, and Blake had been most respectful of Weiss' interest in planning, so she let it slide.

"It's not you, it's me?" she asked instead. "Aren't I only supposed to hear that when we break up?"

"Hardy har…har."

The abrupt pause in the cadence of Blake's sarcastic laughter tipped Weiss off to the fact that something was afoot. She didn't know Blake well enough to tell exactly what, but basic logic stated that if Blake continued with the last 'har,' she didn't want to draw attention to whatever had caught her eye.

"I have to use the restroom, my dear," Weiss said.

"I'll join you, sweetie."

The use of absurdly common pet names was the girls' subtle ways of confirming that they both understood one another. When they entered the restroom together, Weiss checked that it was empty while Blake watched the door close from the reverse image in the mirror.

"Everything okay?" Weiss asked. "Nothing bad, I assume…"

When Weiss' girlfriend turned back to look at her, there was a wide grin on her face.

"I saw Ruby," Blake said.

"W-What?"

"…wearing a trench-coat, a fedora, and a pair of black sunglasses."

Weiss tried to piece that puzzle together and came to the conclusion of idiocy. "She's trying to spy on our date?"

"She was even reading a newspaper, despite being in a modern art museum and surrounded by things to stare at. It was like she was dressed up as an amateur sexual predator."

Weiss frowned. "Spying on…ugh, that does sound like her."

"Honestly, the costume actually drew so much attention to her that there was no way I could miss her. I think that some people were crowding around her because they thought she was a stealth exhibit that was going to take off the outfit and dance an artsy jig or yell at them in a different language or eat a day-old hot dog or something."

"That little pest." Weiss resisted the urge to kick a bathroom stall door – given her aura, she was more likely to break the cheap plastic thing off its hinges than relieve her rage. "Where was she? I'm going to go out there and –"

"You shall do no such thing!" Blake said, somehow channeling the authoritative energy of her mother and Weiss' father at the same time. "Do you not realize what this means?"

Weiss tapped a finger to her chin. "That Ruby wishes to see how our date is going? That she has no regard for privacy? That she has no subtlety? That she has no brain?"

"No," Blake said, though Weiss was fairly certain all of that was true. "Chicken wings, she doesn't yet know we've seen her. This is a blank check to do whatever we want."

The full depth of the opportunity for mayhem, havoc, and pranks of epic proportions revealed itself to Weiss in that moment, and she had half a mind to kiss Blake right then and there for saving her from missing out due to her prior indignation.

Wait, it's my girlfriend we're talking about.

"May I kiss you, Blake?"

Blake snorted and nodded. She also turned bright red when Weiss pecked her on the lips, evidently not having expected the offer to be a serious one.

"N-Now, for Ruby…we don't have long to plan, so it's going to have to be something we can –"

"Wait," Weiss said. "If you put on some make-up, we'll have as long as we want to draw up our gameplan. You waste famously large quantities of time in the bathroom each morning applying it due to your obsession with it, and Ruby knows this."

"I-I am not obsessed!" Blake protested.

Nonetheless, she took out a pocket-sized make-up kit from somewhere on her person and began to apply it.

Weiss glanced at the cat Faunus and raised her eyebrows.

"This doesn't prove anything!" Blake hissed, her ears bending down angrily.

The pair emerged from the bathroom with a solid plan.

The first step was to remove any suspicion arouse by their long absence by continuing along with their regularly scheduled date. This also meant that they got to continue to see the rest of the museum, which Weiss considered a plus.

Once they'd allowed their date to run its natural course (with a keen awareness from both girls that Ruby was watching over them from a short distance away, forcing them to stifle occasional giggles when the realization struck hard), the plan began.

It was when they exited the museum that the chicanery began.

"Oh, Weiss. I simply had such a lovely time," Blake said. "Everything was utterly perfect."

"I'm…I'm glad it was," Weiss said, forcing herself to look like she was forcing a smile. A lifetime of acting out her emotions in front of the ever-present cameras had perfected her improv skills, at least as far as tricking Ruby Rose was concerned.

Blake blinked a few times as they strolled through the lobby, just a few paces away from the exit. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, fine," Weiss said, just a little faster than she normally would have.

"Weiss, if something's wrong, you can –"

"Nothing's wrong," Weiss said, with an attitude of 'that's the end of it.'

Fake Blake didn't pick up on it. "Please, Weiss, it's our first date. If something's the matter, I'd rather set the precedent of us talking it through."

Weiss squinted at Blake angrily, stopping was her hand on the door. "If you must know…"

Ruby was lingering around the reception desk, pretending to be inconspicuous. Oh, her performance was so utterly conspicuous that it might've just burst into flames.

"If you must know, it's how you conducted yourself with that water bottle exhibit. I'm disappointed in you, Blake."

"Disappointed? How?"

"I thought I was more than just a bank account to you, and yet you ask me to spend thousands of lien on our first date? Is that all you want from me? My money?"

"What? That isn't fair! You were agreeing with me, that you would buy it!"

"Only because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," Weiss said, brushing her eye as through a tear were dropping down it. Ruby wouldn't be able to see any crying, but she could certainly see the hand motions (and they were absolutely speaking loud enough to hear). "But you clearly care not for my own comfort, you…you slattern!"

"Keep it normal, Schnee," Blake said under her breath. Then, "Weiss, was it so unreasonable to ask? It's not like you don't have the means to pay for it."

"It's the principle, Blake!"

Blake shook her head. "If I had as much money as you did, I'd spoil you rotten. But apparently you're too cheap." She folded her arms for effect.

"Let's just go," Weiss said, pushing through the door. Blake followed after her, and the two of them were out of the museum together in a second.

As soon as they were beyond Ruby's line of sight, they raced forward to an uncrowded area in the streets. Blake kept her eyes on the door, and the second Ruby burst out of it, the duo began to pretend that she'd missed their mock argument amping up in intensity.

"I can't believe you, Schnee! How stingy can you get? You even made me buy dinner, and now this?!"

Weiss scowled and thrust her arms in the air. "So you admit it – I only ever meant free dinner to you! I can't believe I asked an alley cat piece of trash like you out."

It wasn't something Weiss would ever say, but Blake had actually been the ones to come up with their lines in the bathroom. Ruby was eating it all up.

"We're through!" Blake said. "I don't even want to be on the same team as you!"

"Good!"

"Fine!"

"Great!"

Blake moved to walk past Weiss, and she bumped her shoulders quite roughly as she did. Weiss scoffed in faux outrage at the action, then shook her head.

Oh, Ruby's probably chewing her fingernails off right now. We'll tell her the truth, but only after letting her stew long enough to know not to –

Weiss looked over at her meddling partner.

She had just enough time to dash towards Blake and push her out of the way before a sniper shot would've tagged her shoulder.

"BLAKE BELLADONNA! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR DOMESTICATED VIOLENCE!" Ruby declared in a shouty tone. "COME QUIETLY, OR I'LL FUCKING MURDER YOU!"

Blake was too shocked to react, so Weiss took charge. "Ruby, we were –"

"I saw everything, Weiss! She shoulder-checked you – that's how it starts! Don't worry, we can get you to a battered wives' shelter ASAP as soon as I've arrested this scumbag who tried to abuse your domestics." Ruby lifted her sniper rifle, which Weiss now realized was the reason she wore the trench coat. "You're lucky I had the forethought to spy on you, or you might've died or something!"

"No, it's not what you think!" Weiss blocked Blake's tumbled down body with her own, but the illogical logic of Ruby Rose began to turn Weiss' higher cognitive functions off, and she couldn't think up any response that would calm Ruby down. All she could come up with was, "Everything's fine!"

Ruby tsked her lips. "Stockton syndrome, too…this is worse than I thought. But I think I learned an important lesson today – if I don't spy on your every moment, you'll be in danger! Don't worry, Weiss, from now on, I'll be watching you like a hawk to protect you. No matter where you are, no matter when – at school, on dates in the city, asleep in your bed, using the bathroom – I'll never let you out of my sight!" Ruby gave Weiss a thumbs-up, then re-trained her gun on Blake. "You can count on me!"

Classes started on Monday, and today was a Saturday, meaning that there was plenty of time to go back to the dorm room and sort things out. But right now, the dorm room sounded like the last place worth going to.

Instead, Yang trudged through the lower side of Vale, the place where drug dealers and petty thieves ran amok. This was far outside the jurisdiction of the police, who knew better than to venture into these parts, lest a gang war break out. It was the kind of place that people who knew what 401k meant tended to avoid. Yang herself was only exempt from the danger posed by the thugs on the street due to the weapons she clearly wore on both arms. Even these folks seemed to know that huntresses were not to be messed with.

Of course, she wasn't just meandering about the alleyways of crime just for a pleasant nighttime stroll. Yang had gotten back to Vale around the late evening, and she'd taken the liberty of securing a room at a hotel using some pocket cash she had on hand – she just couldn't go back to Beacon, not without a little more time to herself. Fortunately, that worked well for her, as she had a particular destination in mind.

I heard this Junior guy can find anyone. All I'll do is flash him a pic of my mom, ask for whatever details he has to offer, then head back to the sleazy motel for the night. No need to stay around Creepy Avenue any longer than necessary.

The club at which Hei 'Junior' Xiong worked was the one shimmering star of gold surrounded on all sides by the dens of dirt and grime. It was situated in the perfect location for just enough trouble to make a nightclub interesting, but it didn't suffer from the same crime and general dirtiness that afflicted the other nearby buildings. Yang supposed that the street folk seemed to know that Junior was not to be messed with either.

That means he must be my guy, she thought. If he commands this much respect from the rats, he must have some under-the-table connections. This is such a bad idea.

In spite of that thought, she kept going.

Half an hour later, Yang was no further along on the quest of finding Raven.

Any other day, any other week, any other time, she would've pushed harder and pressed farther. Dust, she might've even started something over the way she'd been flat out denied without having her money returned to her, but this was not the time. After the whole 'spar with Weiss debacle,' Yang was on thin ice with Beacon (Goodwitch specifically), and she knew better than to cause trouble over something like a personal quest or cheated fee.

Ruby was personally picked up by Goodwitch for stopping those muggers at her Dust store. If I started something, I imagine I might receive the same treatment.

If Yang ever got off whatever probation she was on, she might pay her old buddy Hei another visit with the same picture of Raven, but there was no telling just when that might be. But it wasn't like The Club was going anywhere, so Yang could just use the same sense of patience that she'd grown after taking Ruby into that abandoned cabin on Patch.

Still, Yang was all riled up from how that bartender and his two quasi-huntress bouncers had made a mess of her once they'd realized she wasn't going to fight back, and she was in the mood for a good fight. The Club was too high profile – they might actually call the police on her – but there were plenty of other assholes in this city.

Ember Celica folded neatly into Yang's knapsack, making her no different in terms of external appearance from any other girl walking out late at night. If she decided to take the long way home by venturing into a dark, dangerous alleyway and some thief (or worse) thought her easy pickings, it would be clear-cut self-defense. Goodwitch might even reward her for it, like she had for Ruby.

Fat chance. In reality, I'm better off just beating up whoever tries to mug me and just turning them in to the police anonymously.

Unarmed, Yang was still a force to be reckoned with. It was her strength and her semblance that made her the best huntress in Beacon, hands down, not two shotgun gauntlets.

There were clearly scumbags in this alleyway that were eyeing Yang with a recognizable hunger, but she didn't approach them. She wasn't going to be a vigilante tonight, and if someone tried to tell the police that she attacked them, it would be her one-way ticket away from Beacon. Yang did not want that.

No, all she was hoping for was some would-be mugger trying their luck. She would get a chance to let some stress out, the prison would get one more filled cell, and Beacon would be none the wiser. Everyone could go home happy.

Evidently, she still looked too tough, for no one in this alleyway decided to mess with her. Yang just shrugged her shoulders and took a right turn, going deeper into the dark, shadowy parts of the city. The meager safety of the streetlights was now far away, and the lit windows and backlights of buildings were all that replaced them. Yang figured that the dicier a place she went, the better her odds.

I'll only fight back if someone threatens me. I'm not going to go around harming any hobos – only criminals who provoke me.

"Oh, just who I'm looking for."

Yang twirled around, taking care not to raise her fists. As far as anyone knew, she was just a helpless damsel – if whoever it was that had spoken was a good person, they'd offer to help her out. If not, they were in for a brand new world of hurt.

"You'll do perfect, huntress," said the figure who now stood between her and the way out of the alley. He blew a chef's kiss with his gloved hand "Per-fect."

The tone of this mysterious male stranger was far more refined than Yang was expecting on the seedy side of town, and she didn't like that he'd identified her as a huntress despite her having put away her weapon.

Did he see me with it out earlier? Was he following me?

"Who are you?" she asked, now raising her fists. If this guy was some sort of stalker creep, she had no interest in putting herself at a disadvantage by waiting.

"Me? I suppose you could say that I'm no one, friend. No one at all."

The guy was clearly not no one. As Yang inched further and further away, he calmly strolled closer, giving her a better look at him, and she began to make out that his clothes were far fancier than anyone living in these slums should have owned. That white coat looked like it cost a fortune, and most muggers didn't wear neckerchief cravats. Or makeup.

And they certainly don't have canes with triggers.

"Huntress!" Yang declared, recalling too late that he seemed to already know that somehow. "On the authority of Beacon Academy, identify yourself right now, or you're under arrest!"

The man was now probably only about ten feet away from her. He stopped walking and held up his hands in surrender, but in a mocking way, and with a fake-looking pout on his face.

"Arrest? Dear old me? Whatever for?"

"ID! Now!"

He smiled. "Actually, that's just what I was hoping to talk to you about."

He reached into his coat, and Yang tried to cock her guns before he could pull out one of his own, only to realize that she'd stowed them away. Thus, she had no way to threaten him to keep his hands where she could see them, but he'd already reached in and pulled out what he was going for in that time, and it wasn't another weapon.

"What is that?"

The man smiled. "What you asked for." He held out the small object towards her. "My card."

Yang hopped forward and reached for the card. He suddenly flicked it between his fingers just before she could get it, causing Yang to scowl. The man merely responded with his own grin, then flicked it back between his fingers in her direction.

Snatching the plain white card, Yang glanced down at it, keeping one eye on the sketchy dude as she read. It wasn't ID, though, but a business card.

Roman Torchwick

Professional Son of a Bitch

As soon as she'd finished reading, the man began to step backwards. Yang had been pushed into the back of the alley by his strutting advance, and it took her a second to react to the reverse in his step. By the time she was moving, he was already turning behind the corner of the alleyway.

When Yang rounded the same corner, there was no one there.

End of Volume 1

Next Chapter: The Lone Huntsman

In which Weiss Schee and Ruby Rose form different opinions about a new actor on the huntsman scene.

Author's Notes

Our girl Yang out here speedrunning both the red and yellow trailers. If she bumps into Adam on a train next, we know something's fishy.

I guess it's about time for the plot to start, now that we've gone over the pointless drama that bored half of you half to death (it only counts as a quarter).

As some of you may recall, Ruby never met Torchwick at the Dust shop; she stopped a regular highway robbery against the old man by some goons, no relation. Thus, this handsome devil is an entirely unknown individual with an entirely known face.

Happy rats, and don't do crime!